


perfumed immortal breath

by caesarions



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coffee, Crush at First Sight, F/F, M/M, New York City, Rain, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesarions/pseuds/caesarions
Summary: Alexios needs to buy flowers three times. Well—not so much buying as exchanging. And, he does notneedto buy the flowershere, but oh, how he wants to.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not updating any of the ancient greek names i'm sorry. most of them are pretty solid though

Breathing a sigh of relief, Alexios leaned against the door as soon as it clicked shut, protecting him from the elements. Well—a little too late. Soaking wet, Alexios occupied the welcoming mat, hoping he did not drip the grime of the city onto this store’s blue-and-white tiled floors.

Whatever store he was in, anyway.

Alexios’ luck had swung wildly on a pendulum this morning. He had the day off, but Kassandra had a cold—no wonder, considering the weather this week. Now, Alexios would be the next to catch one. When attempting to make a trip to the pharmacy on his sister’s behalf, Alexios had missed the bus. No problem, since walking always cleared the mind. Alexios had been blissfully unaware of the dangerously gray clouds above, threatening to burst.

Then, it down-poured.

“Good morning! Welcome to Hyakinthos.” Looking up between shivers, Alexios blinked. A man of similar age, height, and everything, really, had appeared behind the counter. “What can I do for you today?”

“Uh…” Alexios stammered. If businesses did not even allow one to use the bathroom without buying anything, then Alexios doubted the protocol for using a business as shelter from the elements was any nicer. Looking around, he took in the white walls painted alive with warm, clay buildings and cerulean seas. Around the scenes huddled bright display bouquets. There were even a few replica statues, and Alexios stared at one of Artemis.

He said the first thing that came to mind. “I need to buy a flower for my sister.”

“Oh, how sweet!” The clerk smiled. “That’s quite the rare request. Not that more men shouldn’t ask.”

Simply nodding, Alexios kept himself plastered to the glass door. He watched as the employee pulled out some paperwork and pens, working around his crimson apron.

Eventually, the man behind the counter looked up. “I don’t bite, you know. You can come closer.”

 _Maybe you should_ , Alexios could not help but think as he walked forward, able to see more of the other man’s face. Perhaps his luck was improving again. The clerk’s already tan cheeks glowed with the flush of working outside, and his rose lips curled up softly. To avoid staring, Alexios glanced down. His name tag read Thaletas, but no surprise there, as every other person on this side of Astoria, Queens was Greek.

“Do you know what her favorite color is?” this Thaletas character asked when Alexios stared instead of spoke.

Frowning, Alexios conjured up memories of Kassandra’s disastrous wardrobe. Her outfits only had one theme in common: disaster. “I don’t know. Maybe red.”

“A fine choice,” Thaletas chuckled. “Does she have a favorite type of flower?”

Alexios could hear Kassandra's voice ringing in his head. Both siblings had the same answer. “There are different types?”

“Hm. What about a message you would like to send to your sister?” Thaletas asked instead.

“I’m sorry,” Alexios said. When Thaletas was mid-smile, Alexios continued, “For letting our bird get into your leftovers. I didn’t think he knew how to work a pizza box.”

Thaletas’ smile froze as he blinked owlishly. Glancing down, he faced a very empty information sheet. “...I think we’ll just have to simplify that to _I’m sorry_.”

Crossing his arms, Alexios watched the other jot down a few pitiful notes. When he could not think of anything more, Thaletas tapped his pen on the paper in tune to the falling rain outside. The musical encounter was oddly peaceful.

“Well, I don’t normally do this,” Thaletas said, which caused Alexios’ heart rate to momentarily skyrocket, “but would you like to come into the back and pick out something you think she would like? I’m no mind reader, but I can still do my job afterwards. I'm sure Kyra won't mind.”

The Greek man’s heart returned to a healthy rate. Well—relatively healthy, as they were still together. “Sure.”

Kassandra could wait to get her cold medicine.

Thaletas motioned Alexios behind the counter, and Alexios followed dutifully. The other left Alexios alone to disappear into his office. Figuring the room was not for him, Alexios fidgeted outside.

Soon enough, Thaletas tossed a blanket out of the office. It slapped Alexios in the face, but he was not one to complain. He wrapped the weighty, red fleece about himself like a lover.

Alexios raised an eyebrow as he heard boiling.

“Do you take any milk and sugar in your coffee?” Thaletas poked his head out of the door.

Alexios blinked. He had never really had a preference. He barely had standards anymore, as he and Kassandra only drank instant coffee with whatever creamer was on clearance. “Uh… Just make it how you usually would.”

Given free reign, Thaletas quickly returned with two demitasse cups.

“I thought this was a flower shop, not a bed and breakfast,” Alexios jested. When he held the cup up to his face, he immediately felt guilty for it, though. It was real Greek coffee, foaming and dark as night.

It smelled like home.

“My lease says that no one can die of hypothermia in my care,” Thaletas responded. They bantered so easily, the thought filling Alexios with light.

The florist opened the screen door to his greenhouse, as big as New York City realty would allow—which was not very big at all. They shuffled single-file between the aisles of blossoms, big and small. The rain had devolved into a kind drizzle, kissing the glass panes around them.

“Apology flowers… Apology flowers,” Thaletas mumbled. When they turned a corner, Alexios could see his face, adorably scrunched in concentration. If Alexios had sent him on a goose chase, at least Thaletas was enjoying it.

Alexios covered his own traitorous expression with his coffee.

“Have you memorized the meanings of all of these flowers?” Alexios asked to fill the silence, but with how stuffed full the greenhouse was, he was genuinely in awe.

Thaletas shrugged sheepishly. “Not all of them.”

 _That meant all of them_ , Alexios thought.

“Oh! I’m a fool.” Thaletas began to laugh at some inside joke. “Of course, a purple hyacinth means that you’re asking for forgiveness. That sounds like an advertisement for my shop, though. And not red.”

“The color doesn’t matter,” Alexios mumbled and flushed. He did not want to admit he had only said red because Thaletas looked like he liked red. “That kind is perfect.”

He had said so without even looking at the flowers. Instead, he looked at Thaletas.

“Well, if you’re certain.” Humming contentedly, Thaletas flipped through the purple hyacinths to find the best blossom. “Just one, right?”

When Alexios nodded, Thaletas smiled. He cut the stem of a flower that finally satisfied him, even though Alexios could not tell the difference between them. On that note, hadn’t Thaletas initially snuck Alexios into the back for Alexios to pick out the flower himself?

Not that Alexios did not trust his judgment, but maybe Thaletas was just as eager for an excuse to stay together.

“I have the perfect little vase for this,” Thaletas said happily. “Let’s return to the front.”

After dropping off their coffee cups in Thaletas’ office, Thaletas returned to the counter, and Alexios walked around the front. He paced on the checkered tiles to look busy instead of staring at Thaletas’ gentle hands working.

But stare Alexios did. Thaletas hummed as he gathered his materials. First, he stuck the hyacinth into a tiny, one-flower vase. A slender neck rounded out into a purple bulb with glass flecks. As a final touch, Thaletas tied a wispy red bow around the neck.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Thaletas asked eagerly.

Alexios huffed, “Well, if she doesn’t, then I do.”

Without any good ideas, and sweating as Thaletas watched him, Alexios just scribbled “Sorry Kass :(“ onto the tag. Thaletas pinned it to the ribbon. Since their beautiful bouquet was finally complete, Alexios began to pull out his wallet.

“Oh, put that away.” Thaletas waved his hand dismissively. When Alexios only raised his eyebrows, Thaletas continued, “I know you’re only here because you were getting out of the rain. I’m not going to swindle you out of anything.”

Flushing with shame, Alexios stared at the ground. “Ah… Sorry. I’m not a very good actor.”

“Neither am I, so I meant it when I said that you’re sweet.” Thaletas leaned his elbow on the counter. “Many people do, and many more just stop by. But none of them let me go on and on about flowers.”

“...Still, let me pay you.” Alexios broke into a cold sweat. Flowers were expensive!

“I just said you already have,” Thaletas chuckled. “But if you would like to continue to pay, then I can’t stop you.”

Well. Kassandra could wait a long while to get her cold medicine.

Alexios still dropped an amount he thought would cover the price into the tip jar. Since no other customers stopped by, probably due to the weather, Alexios had the attractive florist all to himself. The two men chatted idly over the hyacinth and more cups of coffee. Something warmer than the coffee blossomed inside Alexios’ chest.

When Alexios finally left, the sun shone brilliantly.

  
“ _This_ is what took you so long?” Kassandra wheezed in her sick bed, talking like a wizened old crone. “Now, you actually do have something to be sorry about!”

“I lost track of time!” Alexios defended himself. He removed the bowls of chicken noodle soup from her side table.

“How do you do that in a flower shop?” She nursed her bottle of water. “You know I don’t understand flower meanings, either.”

Bristling, Alexios huffed, “Well, don’t insult it! I had some help in picking it out. A lot of help. Good help.”

“Hmph.” Kassandra squinted her eyes at Alexios’ reddening cheeks, an accusation plain in her gaze. “Now, I understand everything.”


	2. ii

Third time’s the charm, Alexios thought. Sure enough, when he walked past Hyakinthos, the wide windows revealed a tan woman with wiry, midnight hair working the counter, as opposed to Thaletas. Since he had been running out of time, Alexios exhaled gratefully and stepped into the flower shop.

It was not that he wanted to avoid Thaletas. In fact, the truth was quite the opposite. Though flowers were his easiest excuse for returning, these ones bloomed for a terrible reason. 

Alexios could have just called, but what if Thaletas answered and recognized his voice? He could have ordered flowers somewhere else, but why take money away from Thaletas? Flower shops were notoriously unprofitable—if one measured by money and not by passion.

“Hey, welcome to Hyakinthos,” the woman greeted when she heard the telltale chime, dragging the words through molasses. She nursed a thermos, which Alexios presumed to be a morning coffee. “What can I get for you? And don’t say _just looking_.” 

Alexios chuckled uncomfortably. As he crossed the familiar tile floors, he glanced at the new bouquet displays, which seemed less colorful than the last rotation. He even stared at the faux statues, which had turned unfriendly and unrecognizable in the early morning light. 

Anywhere but the woman. Well, he did not have to look at her—up close, her thermos reeked of alcohol. Pulling a face, Alexios pressed his knuckles against the front desk until the skin blanched. “Hi, uh… I actually need to order some flowers for a funeral.”

Almost mechanically, she pulled out the same paperwork that Thaletas had. Alexios dared to raise his eyes to where tan hands flew over a red apron.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, clear and simple, as opposed to the expected brash response. Alexios blinking owlishly, her genuity almost blew the man off of his feet. Was that something reserved for all customers, or did he look especially pathetic? “I know what that’s like. What age are we talking?”

“...A little girl,” Alexios choked out, the words a Herculean task.

Her whole body winced. Looking up, Alexios finally read her name tag of Kyra. “Are you arranging the whole funeral, or is this just a gift?”

“Gift.” Good God, Alexios could not imagine dwelling on the funeral preparations for weeks on end. Attending would already be far too much. He did not desire a physical reminder of the trap his mind lied in. 

As Kyra took notes, her writing was as languid and carefree as her regular personality. “What arrangement do you think she would prefer? A bouquet, a wreath, or—?”

“Alexios?”

The aforementioned man and Kyra both glanced up. Thaletas hung on the door frame and stared out of his office behind the counter.

Alexios cursed under his breath. Of course Thaletas was here somewhere, but Alexios prayed that meant deep into the greenhouses. Apparently, Alexios thought as he squinted at the statues’ godly visages, he had not prayed near enough.

“Oh, this is the guy you told me about?” Kyra spoke first. She dropped the pen on the desk. “And took into the back without asking me first?”

“Kyra, perhaps now is not the time,” Thaletas whispered fiercely as he stepped out of the office. His pleading eyes returned to the other Greek man. “Alexios, what is this about a funeral?” 

“...It’s nothing, really,” Alexios rebutted quickly—far too quickly. Frowning, Thaletas crossed in front of the counter to place a gentle hand on Alexios’ shoulder. Immediately, the tension both fled from and flooded Alexios’ body. He continued, “I said, it’s nothing.”

So, Thaletas grabbed Alexios by the arm. 

“Old friend, can you handle the store for a bit?” Thaletas asked of Kyra. Remembering Kyra had watched his whole exchange, Alexios flushed in shame.

“If you pay me,” Kyra jested. When Thaletas opened his mouth, she sighed, “Right, not the time. Yes, I can.”

Though he only worked with flowers, Thaletas’ arms were strong—strong enough to drag an unwilling Alexios across the floor and into his office.

Once Thaletas closed the door, Alexios grumbled, “I said—”

“You’re not a very good actor, remember?” Thaletas crossed his arms. “Now sit, and let me take care of you.”

For a florist, he sure could order around like a general. With no other choice, Alexios pouted and plopped himself down on the couch dramatically. 

However, when Thaletas approached the table with his coffee supplies and proved he really meant it, Alexios swallowed a pang of guilt. He really was acting like a child, but someone had to, since that existence could be taken at any moment. 

As the coffee brewed, filling the space with a woody aroma, Alexios turned his attention to the room’s decor. Thaletas had a regular computer desk, stacked high with sales records and an old monitor. Above on the cream wall, he decorated with landscape paintings and a string of dried plants. There were other snacks by the coffee, a sink, and a mini-fridge and microwave underneath the table.

On the other side of the office, a low table and bookshelf in cherry wood surrounded Alexios’ couch. He could not see any of the book titles, but the table held the latest copy of _Florists’ Review_ magazine, so Alexios could bet his life on the other books' true content.

A demitasse cup blocked his view before Alexios could inspect the magazine cover. Thaletas instructed, more gently this time, “Here, drink this.”

“I thought this was a flower shop, not a therapist’s office,” Alexios huffed. He looked down into the coffee instead of up at Thaletas, but he noticed Thaletas had not even taken the time to make himself a cup. Alexios had not even given him an order last visit, but the coffee was the very same shade of shining chestnut.

“You and Kyra and all of your quips,” Thaletas sighed in exasperation. “You will both kill me someday. May I sit beside you?” 

Alexios realized he had sprawled across the whole couch in his angst. Cradling his little cup like a lifeline, Alexios grunted his affirmation and scooted over to one cushion only. 

As soon as he perched on the couch, Thaletas turned his attention to Alexios. Under the other’s flint hard gaze, the Greek man had no choice but to meet it.

Coincidentally, Thaletas’ eyes matched the coffee perfectly. And both felt like home.

“You said the funeral was for a little girl?” Thaletas asked softly. “It’s not the sister you mentioned, is it?”

“No!” Alexios’ heart stilled at the very thought. “...But she might as well have been a little sister.”

“Tell me more about her,” Thaletas cooed. “I can add some personal touches to her flowers that way, of course.”

Alexios rolled his eyes. Thaletas was terrible at framing things as business; knowing him, the flowers would be free again. Still, Alexios even sipped his coffee with impatience, finding the desire to share sparked within him naturally. 

“...Her name was Phoibe,” Alexios sighed. Even that released the weight of the world from his shoulders. Then, the words spilled out as a great flood. “Since she is— was an orphan, our neighbor adopted her. Markos had a penchant for that kind of thing. Kass and I ran away to his place if we ever needed a break.”

“A whole apartment away, how rebellious,” Thaletas chuckled. “He seems like a kind man, then.”

“Except he didn’t have the money to match it,” Alexios huffed. He leaned back into the couch and lapped at his coffee. “So, Phoibe began to complete odd jobs for the whole apartment complex as she grew. Even when Kass and I moved out to another, we still saw her zipping all over Queens.”

Thaletas hummed, the sound almost gracing the shell of Alexios' ear. When in the world had he moved so close to Alexios? “Well, those must be good memories. You got to keep in touch with an old friend.”

“Except she shouldn’t have been out alone all the time.” Alexios downed the rest of his coffee to scorch his throat for revealing too much. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that much.” Sighing, Thaletas swung an arm around the back of the couch, hovering politely above Alexios’ actual shoulders. He murmured, “...How did she die, then?” 

“In this city, how else do you think?” Alexios snapped ferociously. “A hit and run as she carried out one of her latest errands.”

When Thaletas flinched back, eyes dripping with hurt, Alexios cursed inwardly. He felt even worse when Thaletas continued to press the issue, tenderly and with obviously good intentions, that Alexios had just violently cast aside. That was not the first instance in Alexios' life. “...You didn’t witness the accident, did you?”

Alexios shook his head. Determined not to repeat his past coping failures, and before the remorse could eat him alive, he grabbed Thaletas’ arm and brought it down to actually rest on his shoulders. Thaletas readjusted himself around Alexios, who sat like dead weight and uselessly fiddled with his empty cup.

“Then, you have nothing to feel guilty for, which I know is a common side effect of grief,” Thaletas continued, his voice as soft and catching as down feathers. If he were a lesser man, Alexios would have made another quip about therapists. “You have a right to feel sad, but it’s unhealthy to dwell on it. Especially since you described Phoibe as a little girl full of light, I don’t think that’s what she would want for her honorary big brother.” 

Alexios smiled only because he could picture Phoibe’s—sunny, gap-toothed, and lovably mischievous in only the way a child’s could be. At the heart of the matter, that is what she was—a child. That is all any of them ever wanted to be. “You’re right, Thaletas.” 

“I usually am.” A heartbeat passed before Thaletas palmed his forehead. “Oh, I’m turning into you and Kyra.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Alexios could not bring himself to laugh just yet, but his smile widened to reveal teeth. It was more emotional headway than anyone else in Alexios' life had accomplished. “Besides… Phoibe loved jokes like that.”

“Which is why, if the funeral home isn’t in contact with a florist yet,” Thaletas grinned with a flourish, “I would love to decorate the whole thing for free.”

“Thaletas!” Immediately jumping to his feet, Alexios gesticulated as he flipped between pure joy and pure horror. “This is twice now! You can’t just keep giving away flowers!”

Thaletas was the stubborn one now. He pouted and crossed his arms. “And why not? Arrangements are expensive, and you said Markos didn’t have a lot of money.”

“And you do?” Alexios pointed back at his chunky 2000s monitor, beastly enough to devour any laptop. “Do you make any money off of this business?” 

“Not a lot,” Thaletas chuckled. 

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Alexios stumbled over to the sink. The least he could do in response to this—whatever _this_ was—was wash his own cup. Over the running water, Alexios huffed, “You’re going to end up homeless someday.”

“Some say that, like Kyra,” the other Greek admitted. He shifted on the couch without Alexios there. In his head only, Alexios admitted that he missed Thaletas’ arm about him. “If that happens, can I crash at your place?”

As his heartbeat and shoulders raised all at once, Alexios thanked every god in the heavens that he was turned away from Thaletas. Even as his frame fell, the heat rose in his cheeks. Alexios cleared his throat. “...If our bird lets you.”

Of course, Alexios couldn’t accept on the spot. Still, Thaletas practically held Alexios hostage until Alexios agreed to at least bring the idea up to Markos. Since Markos had accepted help from much shadier sources, Alexios had no doubt he would take it. Alexios also had no doubt it would be himself, not Markos, scrounging to pay Thaletas for his kindness somehow.

Perhaps he could think of a creative way. 

When they opened the office door, rejoining the outside world, no great disaster greeted them. Instead, Kyra was sending off the latest customer.

“Thank you, Kyra,” Thaletas exhaled gratefully. “Sorry about that unexpected break.”

Alexios, on the other hand, was not. Not only had the experience been cathartic, but in such a short time, he had also gotten quite the impression of her. The Greek man crossed his arms. “You know, I half expected you to be eavesdropping on us just outside the door.”

“I only heard one thing.” Kyra’s metal thermos—hopefully filled with water by this point?—clinked on the front desk. “You have a sister?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could have added some plot about phoibe dying by a modern mob version of the cult of kosmos but i thought what the fuck this is a flower shop au not the godfather


End file.
